Damsel In Distress
by only breath
Summary: Over the years, she'd woven a web of lies and half truths and now she was flailing around in its convoluted stickiness. Seven days of an untold story.


**Damsel In Distress**

**By ****_only breath_**

**Warning: self-harm**

**OOO**

Feb 9, 1997 - The Beginning

"Leave me alone, Mudblood," Draco spat.

Hermione didn't even cringe. The words had once hurt - but like a knife, with each use, its sharp edge became blunter and blunter until it didn't hurt at all. Draco's mask of superiority and smugness had been whisked away and all he had to left to cling onto were the petty insults that no longer affected his target.

"I just want to know why you look ill," Hermione said exasperatedly, struggling to keep up with his quick strides.

"I said get away from me, Mudblood! Don't you have some reading to do?" he hissed with as much venom as he could muster, which sadly wasn't a lot these days.

"No," Hermione replied stubbornly. She wasn't going to back down.

That might have been the moment Draco began to fall in love with someone he shouldn't have. He just didn't know it yet.

Feb 9, 2001 - The Saviour

"That's it, Granger! This is the last strike - you're fired," her boss said, his face turning an interesting shade of beetroot as he watched Hermione's failed potion eat up the steel table like acid.

Hermione's eyes widened and she felt her whole world crumble. She relied on her job to keep her alive and sane, and just as with her friends, it was gone. She had been left alone, the only one not to marry. No one had time for her anymore, and she had no time for them because of her job. With both gone, Hermione Granger had no purpose. And a person with no purpose was a waste of space in the world.

"But... but sir... where will I live?"

With her job came free residence at the Ministry. She was an Auror, but spent most of her time down in the Potions Lab, creating experiments usually ending in disastrous situations.

"Where will I sleep?" Hermione whispered. "I'll have to live on the streets - please don't do this, sir, I need this job to survive-"

"That is not my problem, Granger, so get out!" her boss roared.

Fighting back tears, Hermione hurried to pack up her things. This wasn't how her life was meant to go - at least not in her head. She was meant to have a successful job and a wonderful family with Ron, but she didn't like him that way, and Aurors were required to work hard and long for minimal amounts of money.

How had everything gone so wrong?

Her bushy hair was covering her prickling eyes, and through the gaps between strands of drab brown hair she saw Draco - all handsome and well-groomed despite the fact that most of the Wizarding World hated him for making all the wrong choices. He was murmuring something to Hermione's boss.

"Fine," he said gruffly after a while. "Granger, you're rehired."

Hermione beamed with her gratitude and put her things back on the charred, half-dissolved table.

She wanted to thank Draco for saving her, but he was already back at his cauldron, his eyes downcast as he quietly and thoughtfully stirred his perfect concoction.

Feb 9, 2003 - The Makeshift Therapist

"Is this seat taken?" Draco asked quietly, pointing at the seat beside Hermione's. They were in the ice hockey stadium that Hermione and her father used to go to once a month. She didn't enjoy watching the sport, but she enjoyed being with her dad.

Half the lights were off and the stadium was completely empty, save for someone operating an ice machine down in the rink.

"Yes, it's taken," Hermione muttered with a scowl.

"What about that one?" He pointed to the one behind her.

"Taken," she snapped.

"And that one?"

"They're all taken," she said in a clipped tone.

Draco shrugged and sat down on the steps between the seats. "What's new?"

Hermione stared straight ahead, her scowl deepening. She had come here to brood and mull over things, not chat with the colleague who had hardly ever bothered to speak to her during work. She wasn't at all in the mood to engage in friendly conversation. In fact, she wasn't in the mood to be around any other human being (though she made an exception for the ice machine man).

And if she replied, she would go off on a tangent about the multitude if problems in her life. Work sucked, her Ministry home was being invaded by rats, and it seemed like everyone hated her - or at least was trying to avoid her. Even her friends. What had she done wrong?

Hermione spent her free time listening to opera with a bag of chips and Crookshanks in her lap. Life sucked.

"Come on, Granger. I can do this all night," Draco coaxed, snapping Hermione out of her reverie.

"So can I," she huffed.

"At least you responded."

They sat in silence for a long moment, but it wasn't one if those really awkward pauses where both parties didn't know what to say. It was one of those pauses that were comfortable and nice (despite Hermione's moodiness) where neither party needed to say anything.

Then Hermione stopped the first comfortable silence she had had in months by looking Draco in the eye and saying, "You really want to know what's new?"

He nodded, looking genuinely interested.

So Hermione vented. And afterwards she felt amazing. It was as if someone had taken a great weight off of her tired shoulders. To her amazement, Draco had attentively sat through her rant, nodding in all the right parts.

Hermione felt as exposed as if she were naked. She just told him all her secrets and problems and felt totally fine.

She looked in his silver eyes once more and wondered what kinds of problems he had and why he bothered to listen to her.

So she asked if he would like to go to dinner, so that she could get answers. And maybe something extra.

He said yes.

Feb 9, 2004 - The Mutilator

Hermione's body racked with great sobs as she leaned over the sink, her tears mixing with her blood. The horrible scent of the blood seeping from her wrist made her feel like retching, so she let the knife fall to the bottom of the sink before bending over the toilet bowl and emptying her stomach.

She was truly disgusting, and she hated herself. She had mutilated herself - caused harm to her own body, all because of her stupid problems.

She kept quiet, because no one was listening.

She knew staying too long alone with her own thoughts was a bad idea.

Worthless, self-pitying loser.

Her tears streaked down her face and the smell of vomit was so strong.

Everything was so black, so _there_ but at the same time _not_. She felt like her sanity was slipping away, and she was falling deep into a nightmare - she needed help, _oh_ _God please_ _someone help me right now._

Her fingers were slipping from the toilet bowl, and then there was a period of pure serenity where there was nothing but blackness. Then she reawoke and found that her fingers were not around the toilet bowl but playing with someone's silky hair.

She looked up with difficulty and saw Draco examining her, eyes crinkled with worry.

_My knight in shining armour... You've saved the damsel in distress._

She drifted back to sleep.

Feb 9, 2005 - The Three Words

Days were spent at work and nights were spent together at Draco's cottage. They were alone together, and it was a beautiful thing.

They slept together and peace came easily, until one night Draco said something that made Hermione freeze her arm's movement towards his pale face.

"I love you."

He said it so wonderfully that Hermione had to bite her lip from crying. She tried to say it back, she really did, and she would mean it. Yet her devious mouth went against her and she found herself choking on her words.

Draco gathered her fragile form in his arms, warming her.

"Hush. When you're ready, Hermione. I will wait a lifetime for you."

So she relaxed in his embrace and watched the glow of the fire.

Feb 9, 2008 - The Reveal

It had taken her three years to finally tell him her true feelings, but of course he had always known. Her declaration couldn't have been more perfect, if it weren't for her friends and their families standing right behind her.

You could hear a pin drop.

Over the years, she'd woven a web of lies and half truths and now she was flailing around in its convoluted stickiness. She had never outright told her friends about her relationship with Draco.

"Um... hi, guys," Hermione said lamely, at a loss as to what to say. "You remember Draco, right?"

Feb 9, 2018 - Finale

Draco loved to watch his wife sitting by the windowsill, reading. She was always so fascinating when lost in thought. He wondered what thoughts passed through an intelligent brain like Hermione's.

Three of their four children ran around the house crazily. The toys were strewn all over the floor. One of the boys was crying shrilly. The baby in the cot crawled around, munching on his favourite teddy bear. The sketchily-wrapped gifts for their new baby from Hermione's friends sat on the dining table. The ring on Hermione's finger glinted in the light of bleak, rainy sky.

And everything was absolutely perfect.

**OOO**

_For_: The "One Day" Competition (Feb 9) - The Not For The Faint of Heart Competition (Operation Angst)

_Author's Notes_: Mismatched sizes for each day, I know! Anyway, review! Sorry for any mistakes; I wrote this on a phone at midnight.


End file.
